


In The Dark

by Dmnq8



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cousin Incest, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:26:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2057337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dmnq8/pseuds/Dmnq8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was wrong. It was dark. Everyone knows those are the best criteria when engaging in something forbidden. Besides, it felt good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Avada Kadavra!"_

_NOOOO!_

"Harry. Harry!"

Harry jerked awake with a gasp of relief, returning to reality with a shudder. He sat with his sheet pooled around his waist, blinking fuzzily at the blurred digital readout of his clock before remembering.

That nightmare _was_ his reality.

One that was admittedly a week in the past, but a reality nonetheless. Seeing Dumbledore's murder every night in his dreams didn't make it any less real. Just the opposite, in fact.

"Harry?"

He nearly jumped from the bed entirely, startled horribly by the hulking shape by his side. How had he missed seeing him?! " _Dudley_ _?_ Blimey, what the hell are you doing in here?"

His large cousin could be seen shrugging uncomfortably. "You were screaming again. And Dad said if he had to listen to one more night of your caterwauling-"

"Right, I get it," Harry said testily. He scrambled off the bed. Dudley's looming bulk was intimidating enough without the added insecurity of looking up at him from a sitting position. "What I don't get is why you care enough to be in my bloody room."

Dudley moved, crossing the room to Harry's bedroom door. "Sorry," he mumbled. He let himself out quietly.

The entire encounter left Harry feeling as if he hadn't quite woken up from the nightmare after all. He had to give himself a shake as he crawled back into bed.

Uncle Vernon's snores could be heard from down the hall. Harry pulled the sheet up to his chin as he lay back down with a sigh. At least he'd woken up from the nightmare this time. Frequently he circled within his dream until sunlight woke him in the mornings, his body drenched in sweat and his head aching. He supposed he should have been grateful to Dudley for waking him, but having the bloke in his room at night like that was almost as bad as the dream.

* * *

He didn't interact with the Dursleys overmuch if he could help it. This worked out well; they hated him, he hated them and to be perfectly honest, he didn't want to have to put up with their nonsense while he was grieving for Dumbledore. He kept to his room unless driven from it by hunger pains.

This was the case the next day, when he'd waited until he heard Uncle Vernon and his aunt climbing into the car to go to some function or other. They no longer bothered to warn him with dire consequences whenever they left him alone. He waited an hour, reading the issue of the Daily Prophet an owl had brought that morning.

The day was another scorcher. Harry's t-shirt stuck to him wetly as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He froze, seeing Dudley at the counter, sandwich meats spread before him.

"Thought you went out with your mum and dad?" Harry did not fancy an afternoon with his cousin in the house.

Dudley didn't turn around, carefully arranging lettuce in the two sandwiches before him. "Didn't feel like it."

Harry shrugged. He went to the fridge and bent, inspecting the contents. There was nothing but leftovers of last night's roast and tart Aunt Petunia had told him and Dudley both specifically not to touch. He straightened with a can of Pepsi, closing the fridge door hard. He eyed Dudley's two sandwiches enviously.

He was just considering threatening his cousin for one when Dudley turned and set a huge sandwich at either end of the small kitchen table. He glanced at Harry with an expression the wizard couldn't immediately identify. It almost looked… sheepish. Harry was immediately suspicious. He gestured at the sandwich meant for him as Dudley sat down to his.

"Did you spit in mine, Dudders?"

"No."

"Used bogeys in place of mayonnaise?"

"No, you prat. I just thought you might be hungry."

"And since when have you ever cared for my well-being, Duddykins? I really can't be arsed with any of your pranks today, yeah? Got enough on my plate without your stupidity." He swigged from the can.

"Since you saved my life."

Harry nearly choked. He watched his burly cousin sitting down to calmly eat his sandwich, as if he hadn't just stood sixteen years' worth of raging animosity between them on its head. He went to the other sandwich slowly, staring all the while at his silent cousin.

A lot of his fat had transformed to muscle with his new regime. He knew his cousin lifted weights and such. Wasn't too long ago his lunch would have consisted of several slices of cake, half a dozen bags of crisps and a large two-liter bottle of cola all for himself. A far cry from the large, healthy sandwich and glass of water he was eating now. Harry had only been home a few days, not long enough to see a personality adjustment in his cousin, if one had occurred. Last summer he'd barely interacted with Dudley at all besides the Dementor incident. Impossible as the idea was, maybe the blighter really had changed. He sat down and reached for the sandwich.

He peeked inside it cautiously, anyway. Finding nothing but fresh slices of tomato, lettuce, onions and cheese, all piled on juicy slices of ham, he took a bite. It was delicious. He took three more huge bites before he could stop himself, suddenly starving.

"Duds, mate," Harry swallowed, wiped mustard from the corner of his mouth and sucked it from his thumb. "This is fantastic." He paused, waiting to see if his cousin would make a smart remark. Dudley only gave a slow nod, still eating, still not looking at Harry. "Thanks," he added.

A pickle had been laid next to the sandwich. Harry bit into it now as he idly stared at the way Dudley's thin vest clung to his skin in sweaty patches. He was surprised. Aunt Petunia normally wouldn't allow her ickle Diddydums to walk around so unclothed. She said only common people did that. The blonde's arms were starting to become defined as biceps and strong forearms instead of just meaty appendages. Dudley finished and rinsed his dishes. He left Harry alone in the kitchen, without saying another word.

Later that evening he heard his aunt and uncle laying into his cousin the way he'd always secretly longed for them to. Apparently their precious, perfect son had failed most of his GCSEs. Uncle Vernon screamed himself hoarse about the shame of Dudley re-sitting them. The row lasted a good hour, with Dudley finally shouting back. Harry heard his booming footfalls shake the hall as he stormed up to his room. A second later his door slammed hard enough to rattle the house. Harry cracked his own bedroom door open as uncle Vernon came huffing up after his son, pounding on Dudley's door. "Open this ruddy door or you'll be sorry!"

Harry could scarce believe the tables had so neatly been turned. What planet was he on? Dudley feeding him and angering his parents? The world had gone mad. Uncle Vernon turned to see Harry's green eye peering at him and he hastily shut the door lest he incur some of the man's wrath.

* * *

He had a hard time falling asleep that night, his mind turning with loads of fascinating new stimuli. When he did manage it, he dreamed almost immediately.

-oOo-

_The graveyard. Cedric fell dead at his feet then rose and chased him, saying Harry should have saved him._

_The graveyard gave way to a forest where it seemed Nagini hung from every tree and every incarnation of the snake had Harry's face, complete with scar and glasses. The snakes hissed, but Harry understood clearly. 'Kill… kill them all…" And Cedric still chased him, his rotting face grotesque._

_The forest gave way to the Department of Mysteries. Sirius fell through the curtain-_

_-and popped from the other side, grinning. He was dead._

_In the short time he'd been behind the curtain, his face and limbs had putrefied to a gooey mess that was unbearable to look at. Harry felt his heart break afresh at seeing his godfather die, at witnessing how unrecognizable his handsome features became. 'I died for you, Harry. Just like Cedric'. And he took up the chase with the dead boy, shambling after Harry, intent on giving him an eternal embrace._

_The Department of Mysteries became Harry's old home. He saw his baby self standing in his crib, crying, reaching for his mum. His parents stood aside and let Voldemort blast him with the killing curse. Grown Harry screamed, reaching for a wand he didn't have. Voldemort killed his unresisting parents. He turned his pale, reptilian face towards grown Harry. Harry knew he didn't stand a chance without his mum's protection. No wand either… Harry turned and ran, picking up Cedric and Sirius again on the way, who were in turn joined by Lily and James and baby Harry._

_Hogwarts. Harry knew what was coming, tried to run anywhere but towards the astronomy tower but it was hopeless. He was harried by the dead, by his past._

_"Avada Kadavra!"_

_But Harry was at the bottom of the tower, there when Dumbledore landed, there to see him haul his broken body up and point a crooked finger at Harry's stricken face. "I-I'm sorry, professor," he stammered. "So sorry… I-I wanted to save you, but I- I just couldn't!"_

_Dumbledore chased him. They all chased him. They accused him and chased him until Harry found himself alone in the graveyard. Cedric fell dead at his feet-_

-oOo-

"No! Please, I'm sorry-"

"Harry, snap out of it!"

The heavy hand shook him so forcefully that Harry was very nearly pushed from his bed. He came awake reluctantly, the dream trying to hold him under. He grabbed the thick arm that was shaking him to keep from falling from the bed. " 'M up, stop shakin' me." The arm stopped.

His stomach hurt. Harry realized this when he pushed himself shakily to a sitting position. It hurt a lot and his throat was tight with the guilt and grief he lived with. A shuddery sigh escaped him. His cousin's hand on him was warm… a comfort. He didn't immediately tell Dudley to remove it, sitting with his head bowed. He didn't move to wipe his tears, either, since the action would call attention to them. He didn't want Dudley to see him crying.

Dudley knew anyway. "You all right, mate?"

"Just… leave me alone. I'm fine."

* * *

Dudley stood where he was, looking down on his cousin's bent head. He didn't leave, but he did drop his hand. The room was dark, only faint light seeping through the window from the street lamps outside. Harry's clock said 1:01 am. After a moment he went and sat gingerly on the end of Harry's bed. Harry did not look up or protest.

Until last summer, he'd have been happy if his thin, abnormal cousin just dropped dead. When those Dementors had come, though…

Dudley supposed that he'd never really considered Harry's world to be real or, if it was, that it carried nothing more dangerous than the giant bastard who'd put a pig's tail on his arse or those red-haired people who'd come for Harry two summers ago. But last year he'd learned differently and if he was honest with himself, Harry had been looking a bit off color since the end of his fourth year at that school he went to. He still remembered the name, from all those letters that had come for him. Hogwarts. Whatever had been going on in Hogwarts the past two years was taking a toll on Harry. Dudley could see it. Were Dementors the sorts of things Harry faced all term? Hadn't there been mention of someone, Lord Something-or-other, who wanted Harry dead? The same someone who'd killed his parents? It was no wonder he couldn't sleep. What went on with him when he wasn't in Privet Drive?

Last summer, he'd thought it the height of funny the way his usurping cousin cried out at night, calling for someone named Cedric. Now, though, it just made him feel bad. Sometimes he heard Harry crying in his sleep, calling names of people Dudley didn't always know, but always the same names. Sometimes it was Harry's parents, sometimes the boy Cedric, whoever he was, or that criminal Sirius, who'd been on the telly.

Not that he'd admit it, but it hurt him to see Harry so obviously tortured by whatever went on at his mysterious school. He'd spent all this term away from home remembering what had happened out by the park last summer. How cold it had gotten, how the Dementors had nearly killed him. And how Harry, despite all Dudley had done to him, had saved him. He'd seen what Harry had done. He _kept_ seeing it.

He'd gotten home a few days ago to find Harry more withdrawn than ever. Piers and the gang had been around to see if Dudley was up for a bit of fun, their usual summer pursuits. Dudley had shocked them by saying no, casting a glance at where Harry lounged on the grass. Piers in particular had had a load of vile things to say.

He didn't have a definite plan in place… just that he didn't want to fight Harry anymore. He still disliked the bastard, the way he always seemed to ruin what would otherwise have been a perfectly acceptable existence in the Dursley household. But his face… his face held such misery when he thought no one was looking. And the screams at night, those agonized screams. Dudley could tell his parents were disturbed by them, fearful that whatever had caused them would find their nephew in Privet Drive and finish what it started, perhaps sucking the Dursleys in as well. They counted the days until Harry left again.

He watched Harry squeezing his eyes shut now, trying to eradicate the tears without actually touching his face. It was strange, really, how the dark room kept out all the heavy weight of their violent history. This wasn't the boy he hated and bullied unmercifully every chance he got. It was Harry, someone in pain, and him wishing he knew what caused it. Dudley had never before felt empathy for anyone but himself. It came to him now, ghostly as the light from the street lamps, making his voice soft and surreal, in accord with the atmosphere of the small dark room. "What happened to you?"

It was understood, by both boys, that the real question was ' _What hurt you so badly? What was done to you? Why are you so torn inside?'_

It was with a sense of quivering wonder that Dudley saw Harry give a tiny coughing sob as fresh tears poured down his face. The face itself screwed into a tight expression, trying in vain to hold in the display. Now the hands did come up, but they didn't stop the tears or, when they came, the harsh barking sounds of Harry's crying.

* * *

It was stupid. So stupid, but unavoidable. He couldn't even remember ever losing it like this and he had to go and have his breakdown in front of Dudley of all people. Disgusting. Doubly so at his age.

Had he not discovered Dudley's human side today he might very well have kicked him out when he'd first woken up. The dream had stayed with him this time. It seemed to unlock the barred door in his soul that kept his turbulent emotions from spreading through his day to day life, giving freedom to his overwhelming sense of guilt and ignominy so that he'd been powerless to do anything but sit and let them rip him apart. Again. As they always did when he was alone.

The question was innocent enough. Profoundly so. It was this innocence from someone who was anything but, that destroyed the last of his flimsy control. That Dudley was capable of such obvious concern for him, Harry, was shocking enough, but not as much as his response to it. He'd thought any yearning he had for affection from the Dursleys had long ago withered to nothing. A brief flash of blinding gratitude at Dudley's honest question put paid to that belief. The gratitude dissolved in the tidal wave of grief that swept through him at thinking of all that _had_ happened to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen himself as a victim. Which brought on a load of self-disgust. All he could do at that point was cover his face, shameful as that was. Maybe Dudley would cotton on to just how uncomfortable the situation was and leave.

He touched him. Dudley laid one meaty paw on one of Harry's forearms, brushing the tears that ran down it. He gripped the thin limb in his hand, pulling, perhaps trying to see Harry's face, but Harry refused to be seen. Dudley ended up pulling Harry's entire upper body because of this and somehow, impossibly, appallingly, Harry found himself surrounded in his cousin's beefy embrace. His forehead rested on Dudley's shoulder and, after a moment of numb disbelief, he felt the powerful arms close gently on his back. One boy needed the comfort, the other needed to be needed.

It was awful. It did not bear consideration, and so wasn't considered. By either of them.

It was felt, there in the dark room. The way the muscles and bulk that had so often hurt him were now supplying the best solace he'd ever received. The way the aloof, bespectacled cousin clung to him the way no one, not even his parents, had ever done. Some strange, fragile, breakable thing of unnamable beauty took shape in their chests, swelled there, trembling and translucent. It kept Harry from pulling away and Dudley from dropping his arms.

A broad hand came up to rest in the wild black hair and Harry sucked in a silent breath.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Aunt Petunia eyed Dudley warily, Uncle Vernon stared hard at Harry, and both boys kept their heads bent suspiciously to their plates of kippers and scrambled eggs. The silence was nothing short of painful.

Harry had woken up to experience a chilling species of awe at his behavior last night. That could not possibly have been him, snuggled in Dudley's – _Dudley's! –_ arms, could it? No. The thought was too ghastly. His eyes had met Dudley's blue ones briefly across the table this morning before dropping quickly to his plate. He could only assume his cousin had the decency to feel the same sense of shame since his face and neck were beet red.

Neither adult asked what was wrong with the teenage boys, clearly afraid of the answer they'd receive. It might contain any variation of the taboo words. Better to leave well enough alone. Especially since their little Diddy was behaving so oddly around the Potter brat.

Piers came round close to noon, asking for Dudley. This familiar occurrence soothed Petunia and Vernon's frazzled nerves. They watched fondly as Dudley led his long-time friend to the backyard.

* * *

Dudley denied the fag Piers offered him with a glance toward the house. He didn't smoke in front of his parents. He leaned on the gate, watching the neighbor's sprinkler try unsuccessfully to irrigate the parched grass. The sun blazed overhead, making sweat drip from the longish blond fringe that lay across Dudley's brow.

"Let's go see what the rest are up to," Piers complained. "Bollocks to waitin' around here." He blew a cloud of smoke towards the sky, his back against the fence, elbows draped over it.

Dudley agreed with less enthusiasm than the skinny boy had ever heard from him. "Fine."

Piers squinted an eye at his friend, dragging on the cigarette as he considered. "Or… we can… you know?"

It was never spoken about out loud. Dudley glanced at him quickly, but didn't reject this offer, though he didn't accept it either. They hadn't done it since school let out. He found himself following Piers up to his room. The thinner boy paused by Harry's door, a wicked grin on his face.

"Let's mess with Potty first, eh? Be the perfect foreplay." He was already turning the knob.

"You're so juvenile," Dudley sneered. He continued to his room, not wanting to openly defend Potter and risk tarnishing his reputation any more than it already was. Piers stormed in after him a moment later, slamming the door. He glared at Dudley's placid expression with his rat-like eyes.

"What is _with_ you, D?" Piers exploded in a hiss. "You've been odd all term and now that we're home you're even worse! And don't bother to give me that rot about a 'near death experience' last summer."

Dudley stood in the middle of his room, big hands shoved in his pockets, one blue eye looking at Piers, the other covered by his hair. "It's true."

"So what if it is! Does it mean you can't have fun anymore? Forgive me for saying it," Piers said sarcastically, "but I'd think a near death experience, if you had one, would give you a new appreciation for life. But here you are moping around the way you did at Smeltings and it's damned depressing!"

Dudley did not answer, which was just one more odd thing. As far as Piers was concerned, his large mate had turned into a mute since the start of term.

"What's with you and Potter?" he asked the blonde boy suddenly. There had been a suspicious feeling about D whenever the little runt was mentioned. And the way he'd looked at him the other day… and just now, not letting Piers pound on him…

Now Dudley wore an expression at last, one of distinct discomfort. "Nothing. Why would you think there was anything between us?"

Piers could and did think of many reasons as he sauntered over to the larger boy. _Because you're not calling him names anymore. You'd rather hang around the house with him than come out with your mates. You get tense and fidgety every time the git is mentioned. You look at him the way you've never looked at me._ He said none of these things. Instead, when he reached Dudley, he looped his hands behind his thick neck and pressed himself to the brawny chest. "I'm glad there isn't," he breathed, looking at Dudley's pink mouth. "Give us a kiss then."

Dudley allowed Piers to kiss him, feeling none of the excitement at doing something forbidden that he used to feel when they first began this deeper relationship two years ago. Touching Piers had been losing its appeal all year, actually. He kissed back absently… then with a bit more animation as an image of how Potter had felt against him rose in his troubled mind. Part of the reason he put an arm around Piers and lifted his body against him was transferred desire, but part of it, a large part, was horror that his galling remorse over his treatment of Harry seemingly wasn't the end of his woes. No, apparently he was now harboring _feelings_ for him; he tried to stamp out this new realization, the truth of it, by immersing himself in Piers' kiss.

Piers pulled back, visibly trembling. "Crikey, Dudley. You haven't kissed me like that in ages. Glad to see you're-oommf!"

Dudley didn't want to talk. Thoughts crept back to the forefront of his mind when Piers broke the kiss and he didn't want to talk just now. Lifting Piers' body higher against his, still kissing him, he walked to his door and locked it. Then he went and dropped the skinny boy on his wide bed, coming down beside him. He resumed the kiss, Piers rolling to lay on top of him, his thin hands rubbing up and down the weighty arms, running through the thick blonde hair.

Relationships such as theirs weren't uncommon at Smeltings, all boys' school that it was. He and Piers had joked a few times that they'd only started up with each other because no girl in her right mind would have either of them. Piers was too ugly and Dudley was too big and mean. There was no love in it. It was mostly done because their hormones drove them to it and they felt comfortable enough with each other to know neither of them would grass on the other.

Eager though he was to prove to himself that he wasn't developing feelings other than gratitude for Harry, Dudley felt clear disgust as Piers writhed on top of him. The fact that his stiffy stemmed from thoughts of how Harry had eventually put his arms around him, holding him in turn, made him moan in distress. Piers misinterpreted it as rising lust and fumbled the tube of lube from Dudley's bedside drawer.

* * *

That evening Uncle Vernon announced he had a business dinner to attend, one that would hopefully land him a big client. Ordinarily he would have had the dinner in his home, but every such occasion had gone horribly wrong in the past. And with both boys behaving so strangely he felt it best if he paid the expense of eating in a restaurant. Aunt Petunia, after kissing her husband goodbye on the cheek, was had out to tea by a girlfriend of hers.

-oOo-

Harry had heard Piers leaving some time ago and come down for food. He'd remained in the kitchen, eating, as first Uncle Vernon then Aunt Petunia left. He could hear Dudley watching an action film in the living room.

Last night had played over and over in his mind until he'd wanted to perform a Memory Charm on himself. He hadn't answered his cousin's question, but then that was hardly the point, was it? He'd rested in the brilliantly soothing embrace Dudley provided and breathed in his sweaty scent, feeling his hurt seep slowly away. His nightmare had been pushed back until he could scarcely remember it, though he dreamed it every night. Everything had faded from his mind until there had just been Dudley and the warm, safe comfort he offered. He'd watched his bedside clock tick away ninety glorious minutes, before a strange and unwelcome thought surfaced in his blank mind at last.

_Thank god I broke up with Ginny._

The thought had been like a bucket of ice water thrown on his warm state of calm. There had been entirely too much relief in the thought to suit Harry. He'd pulled away from his cousin silently, laying back down and turning his back to him. His cousin stood and left his room, no further questions asked.

He heard Dudley flipping through the channels. Harry decided he would go up to his room and read.

He was rinsing his plate when the pain hit. His scar seemed to ignite, obliterating thought and awareness in a cloud of black pain. He saw jagged lances of light behind his closed lids, heard high laughter, pleading.

Dudley came on the run at hearing the tinkle of a breaking dish, the loud, hoarse screaming. He lumbered into the kitchen and stopped, staring at where Harry thrashed about on the linoleum, rolling in the broken shards of his dish, clutching his head.

"Harry!" He crashed to his knees beside his cousin, reaching for him. " _Harry!_ "

Harry was unresponsive, nearly twisting from Dudley's strong grip as he kept screaming. Dudley pried one of Harry's hands from his head, looking for blood, a bruise, anything that would bring on this sudden mad yelling. There was nothing but his scar, looking a bit red. "Harry?" Dudley shook him.

Nothing. Harry's eyes were streaming. He made a sound in his throat, as if he was about to start honking and Dudley hastily set him down, backing away. Not before time either, as Harry did indeed roll to his side and spray the linoleum with his dinner.

"I'm calling mum," Dudley said shakily. He turned for the phone.

"No," Harry gasped out. "Don't."

Dudley turned to see Harry wiping his mouth with a trembling hand, pushing himself unsteadily to a sitting position. Dudley went back to him, dragging Harry away from the pool of sick and shattered glass by an arm. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Harry focused blearily on the large shape of his cousin. His glasses were gone. His head was still pounding fiercely. He had to grit his teeth to keep from yelling, but he couldn't let Dudley call his aunt or uncle. "I'm fine… just my sc- my head."

Several minutes ticked by as the pain gradually faded to a dull throb. Harry rubbed his scar carefully. Voldemort had been in a boiling rage, that much, at least, he'd gotten before the pain had done away with thought. He hadn't had a glimpse into the dark wizard's emotions like that in a long time. He felt his stomach heave again. This time he was able to maintain control. He glanced up through his bangs to find his cousin staring at him with such a foreign look of concern that he uttered a weak laugh.

Dudley gave a half smile in response, before holding his hand out to help Harry up. Harry grasped it, nearly flying to his feet as his cousin gave a hard tug. Harry muttered about people not knowing their own strength, then sagged against Dudley as a wave of dizziness had his head spinning. "Oh, hell…"

"Here, sit down." Dudley guided him to a kitchen chair. "I'll get the mess. Do you need water?"

Harry still wasn't used to this side of his cousin, but he managed a nod, feeling beyond embarrassed. Dudley handed him a glass of water he ran from the tap, along with his glasses, before proceeding to lay newspaper over Harry's still-steaming dinner.

Dudley worked in silence for awhile. Harry had expected a few comments about his weak stomach or the way he'd screamed like a nancy boy, but none came. He longed to ask Dudley about the change in him, if it really stemmed from the Dementor incident, but he couldn't. Accepting his cousin's help was one thing. Having cozy in-depth conversations with him was something else entirely. And then there was the whole business of last night. He shuddered, making his chair wobble slightly on its uneven legs. Dudley looked up at him from his position on the floor.

Harry had never really noticed how his cousin's eyes were a clear periwinkle blue. They'd been so surrounded by fat that they'd been slits for as long as he could remember. Dudley's jaw was also starting to emerge as rather square. He took a deep breath. "Thanks, Dudley. I think I owe you for that."

The grin Dudley gave very nearly made Harry forget about his episode altogether. When had his cousin become so handsome?

No, he wasn't handsome, Harry chided himself. And his hug last night hadn't felt remotely good.

Dudley swept up the last of the broken dish and sprayed a can of room freshener to cut the smell of vomit. "Are you sick?"

"No," Harry answered.

"Did you fall?"

"No." Then, because his cousin _had_ come to his aid he added, "I get these… headaches sometimes."

"Oh. So you _are_ sick?"

"No. It's… magical." He looked quickly at Dudley's face to see his reaction.

There was a puzzled frown on the broad features, nothing more. When he felt his face slowly heating in shame and… other things he couldn't identify, Harry got up and went to his room.

* * *

During the course of the next few days, a pall of acute tension seemed to settle over Number Four Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon escaped to work during the day and Aunt Petunia made any and every excuse to leave the house with a friend or have tea with a neighbor. Neither adult could stand whatever it was the two teenagers were giving off. They left them alone quite often, content with the knowledge that Harry couldn't use magic outside of school and so wouldn't harm their son.

To say Harry and Dudley were aware of each other was a bit of an understatement. They moved around the house, entering and exiting separate rooms, trying not to run into each other. Piers came by once, but Dudley had been so terse that he'd left in a hurry and hadn't been seen since. Whatever it was between Harry and Dudley twisted tighter with each passing day, winding their nerves to the breaking point.

Dudley was left to contemplate his feelings, not something he found at all easy to do. After his afternoon with Piers, though, he'd realized he wished it was Harry he was shagging. And that had been a very sobering thought indeed. He generally kept it on a back burner in his mind, refusing to look at it directly. But now that their parents left them alone so much, and Harry seemed averse to leaving the house, it was hard _not_ to think about it. Especially when his cock stayed erect most of the time, twitching whenever Harry made a sound in another part of the house. He began fantasizing about his cousin down the hall, using his lube to help him along, wishing Harry would have another nightmare so he'd have an excuse to hold him again.

Harry didn't have another nightmare because he didn't go to sleep. He was kept awake with another nightmare, this one made more real by virtue of the fact that the protagonist of the nightmare was right there in the house with him. The nightmare was simple:

He was developing unmentionable feelings for Dudley.

Well, no, that wasn't quite right. A more accurate interpretation would be that he admitted the hug had been good, his cousin was handsome and the last time he'd slept properly, his dreams had been plagued with his cousin's arms and concerned looks. Worst of all, he realized the dream had brought on an erection. Not even kisses with Ginny had brought him to that state. He'd only been able to calm his heated blood by thinking of the field day Ron and Hermione would have with the information.

But he couldn't shake the idea once it had taken root. And the hell of it was that none of it, not one bit, made any sense whatsoever. As recent as two weeks ago he would have been happy to see the back of Dudley once and for all. Where did this wealth of feelings and emotions come from?

-oOo-

A day arrived later in the week when the boys were home alone yet again. Uncle Vernon informed them that he and Petunia would be home late. Harry listened from the foot of the stairs, Dudley from the hall where he stood. The door shut behind the elder Dursleys and Harry turned for the stairs, already bored.

Dudley surprised him by asking, "Want to try the new game I got last week?"

Harry turned on the stairs, his eyes round. "You serious?"

"Yeah… not like there's anything else to do, is there?"

"Too right. Yeah, sure."

The novelty of sitting side by side, playing a video game was soon lost to the competition of the game itself. Harry had extremely limited experience playing games of this sort. Dudley coached him in the finer points until he had the hang of it, then he learned very quickly. Quick enough, at any rate, to have Dudley cursing as he began losing. Harry laughed out right and that, too, was a novel thing. He'd never laughed in genuine mirth while under the Dursley's roof.

Dudley paused the game at hearing the laugh, looking at Harry with a mean expression, reminiscent of his bullying days. Harry tensed, his smile faltering. He'd forgotten how Dudley hated losing. Then a smile cracked Dudley's lips and he was laughing too. He punched Harry playfully on the arm, sending him sprawling. Harry bounced back and tried to throw a punch of his own. Dudley knocked it aside easily. Harry launched with his other fist, still laughing, and somehow they both ended up wrestling on the carpet, Dudley's booming laugh making Harry weak with his own hilarity.

It was nice. Long overdue, in fact. This was how they should have grown up, not hating each other. Their good-natured brawling successfully broke the last of the tension they'd been living with.

They flopped apart, breathing hard as their laughter died down. Harry was sure he'd be bruised in the morning. He let out another bray of laughter at seeing Dudley sit up, his hair standing wildly from where Harry had tugged on it. Harry sat up as well. "That was brilliant. You have to teach me that move, Duds."

Dudley chuckled. His smile faded a little as he took in the bright green eyes, the face flushed with humor and exertion. The glasses were askew. He reached up absently to fix them and ended up slowly taking them off. He looked down at where they lay in his hand. He'd broken them times without number, but here they sat, whole and new-looking. He glanced up to ask Harry something about them and found the other boy leaning toward him.

Harry couldn't see very well without his glasses. He was only leaning in to get a better look at his cousin before asking for them back when Dudley's face suddenly swelled in his vision. Right before he felt his lips on his mouth.

It was short. A touch and gone. Harry froze, his breathing caught as his mouth tingled. He groped for his glasses, had them shoved into his hand, and quickly put them on. Dudley was looking at his hands, avoiding eye contact. His face was very red.

A few hideously awkward seconds ticked by. Dudley hissed an oath before getting to his feet. He hesitated before leaving the room, as if he wanted to say something. Harry took the opportunity to get to his feet too. Dudley shook his head and turned to go.

Harry watched him leave, wishing he'd had the courage to tell him to stay.


	3. Chapter 3

He remained where he was for some time, hearing Dudley slam his door… _not_ hearing the lock engage. Surely if either of them followed past behavior, Dudley would expect Harry to come storming after him, demanding to know what that was all about? He'd have no reason to fear Harry's blows, but he generally feared the magic. He'd lock his door.

But he didn't. That was important.

Equally important were the feelings Harry experienced as he stood alone in the living room. He stared absently at the joysticks for the game he and Dudley had been playing.

The tension that had broken when they'd begun playing came back with interest. His entire body was alive with it, every nerve taut and thrumming with the implications behind Dudley's kiss. His erection, the way his nipples likewise stood stiffly, the hairs on the back of his neck all standing at attention…all this was pushed aside with some success as he tried to grasp the impossibly large concept of Dudley returning his misbegotten attraction.

The allure of the idea was sinfully seductive, yet in no way erotic. Sedulous attention was given to how this turn of events could possibly be happening, even while Harry admitted to himself that he would have liked the kiss to continue.

That finally did the job of eliciting the horror he should have been feeling all along. Cold shame doused the rising heat in his body. He did _not_ want to kiss Dudley.

Yes he did. Not to be kissing him, but to feel the comfort, the safety he'd felt before. Coming from Dudley, it was almost as if it were his mum or dad. It was family. And what did that say about him, wanting to kiss family?

_I've gone starkers,_ Harry thought in wonder. Covering his eyes with a hand, he went up to bed.

* * *

_The dream was new. It resonated with familiarity though everything about it was unprecedented. In it, he was wearing a mask. The mask, eerily enough, looked like his face. Everyone thought the mask was the real him, even he thought it was the real him. Ginny kissed the mask, the mask laughed with Ron and Hermione…but when he got back to Privet Drive and faced Dudley, he saw that his cousin had a mask too._

_They stood face to face, each reaching up to remove their masks. Dudley removed his mask first…_

_Then Harry removed his…_

_Harry saw his own face beneath Dudley's mask and knew Dudley was seeing his reflection beneath Harry's._

-oOo-

He woke with the denial tearing from his throat, not sure why the dream had frightened him so badly. Hedwig hooted at him in a soft voice.

* * *

Dudley was also having a nightmare. Unbeknownst to his family, he had them quite often. Usually he woke from them on his own, which was why he was always able to hear Harry having his bad dreams. This time he didn't, not right away.

-oOo-

_It started off with the Dementors, as usual. He always heard the same thing, the jeers and torments of other children. He heard the way adults used to whisper about him behind their hands, pitying the Dursleys their horribly fat and dim son. There had never been a kind word or belief in him from anyone, anywhere, except from his parents. And that was the same as nothing, since it was their duty. They didn't know the half of what he went through or why. They were blind._

_No one wanted him or liked him._

_The dream changed._

_Harry's arms, Harry needing him, smiling at him. Harry, who'd saved him._

-oOo-

He came awake suddenly, knowing someone was in his room. The environment at Smeltings was such that if you didn't have sharp senses, unpleasant things were liable to happen to you; he hadn't taken up boxing to lose weight. He was on his stomach. He raised up a bit now to turn his head and see who'd entered his space.

Potter. Of course. No one else was home.

"What," he barked. He knew what was coming and didn't particularly care to hear it. Secret dread at hearing whatever Harry would say about that kiss made him revert to his former ways of speaking to him.

Harry didn't even know why he'd come in here. He'd been on his way to the bathroom when he heard a soft moan from Dudley's room. He paused outside the door, remembering how it had been specifically left unlocked. He told himself that he entered at hearing his cousin toss and turn, but he knew the truth.

Dudley's unrest had subsided almost as soon as it started. Harry had stood there, watching the rise and fall of his cousin's broad back, one thick arm thrown over the side of the bed, the fingers grazing the floor. The sheets were kicked off, exposing dark blue knickers and thighs thicker than Harry's waist. The calves were muscled, the feet fleshy. Dudley's vest had a small rip under one arm. Probably outgrown the thing, Harry thought.

He'd been turning to leave when he heard his own name escape on a sigh from the sleeping youth. He'd hesitated, thinking his cousin was awake. Then Dudley had stiffened, wrenching his head around as if sensing an attack. The way he suddenly spoke, his face completely hidden in shadow, had Harry jumping, his hand going to where he stored his wand out of reflex.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly now. "Thought you were in pain or something." He was struck by how strange being in Dudley's room was. It made his breath shorten in unexpected excitement. As if he sensed something was coming, his skin broke out in goosebumps of anticipation.

Dudley swung his legs to the side of the bed with surprising agility. Tousled from sleep the way it was, his thick hair lay heavily over his brow, obscuring his eyes. It made Harry nervous to know he was being regarded so intently when he couldn't see the eyes.

"That's what you're in here for?" Dudley asked aggressively. "Nothing else?"

"Like what?" But Harry thought he knew. Had he ever taken the time to apply Dudley's personality traits to actual human behavior, he might have guessed his cousin wouldn't let things lie. He began sweating, the feeling of anticipation nearly unbearable now.

"I don't know," Dudley said in a falsely casual tone. He pushed up from the bed, the muscles in his thighs flexing briefly. His bed bounced back to its original height as he took a step in Harry's direction. "I thought maybe you were in here because of what I did."

He _still_ couldn't see the eyes. Dudley had him by a good six inches. Harry stared up at where the thick fringe ended shaggily at the middle of his nose. The mouth was masculine, the chin firm. "Oh. That. Well…" He stiffened his spine, refusing to be seen as too gutless to even discuss the issue. "No, not really." At least, not the way Dudley meant.

The large blonde head cocked sideways, skeptical. Harry felt his earlier physical symptoms coming back as the unseen eyes stared at him. He stared back as well, everything in him urging him to say something about the kiss. Honestly, the topic was an elephant in the room. Sweat ran down his temple as he looked at where Dudley's eyes should have been. He tried hunching his shoulders so his stiff little nipples wouldn't be visible through his shirt. He didn't think the problem below his waist was noticeable…yet.

He didn't understand why he was even trying to ignore the situation. Blimey, _he was in the bastard's room!_ He hadn't minded the kiss, _wanted_ to be in his arms again!

And because he'd faced so much already in his short life, suddenly walking the three feet separating him from his cousin didn't seem so bad. What was the worst that could happen? That Dudley would hit him? Tell his parents? Harry had to refrain from snorting as he took two measured steps.

He didn't know why he was doing it. Maybe because…

It was wrong. It was dark.

And everyone knew those were always the perfect criteria to do what was forbidden.

In reference to Dudley's last statement, Harry said, "Well…that too." He took off his glasses.

He had to lean up to touch Dudley's mouth with his own, nearly overbalancing. A heavy arm came up behind his back and anchored him to the big body. There was a moment when they both pulled away in shock, waiting to see if blows would be dealt, disgust expressed, insults hurled…but all that happened was Dudley whispered "Oh God." Then his head slanted towards Harry's.

It really was amazing how much the dark facilitated Harry's surrender to the act. He took a moment to note that there _was_ disgust, that there _was_ an appreciation of how bent this was…before also noting that these things lent to his excitement. His hand went behind Dudley's neck to haul himself higher even as his cousin's arm behind his back performed the same action. His feet nearly cleared the floor and the feel of Dudley's large, strong body was just too good.

Harry was used to being the aggressor when it came to kissing, even when kissing the fierce Ginny. Dudley's hot possession of his mouth was cause for concern, but then their tongues met and the concern was swept aside at finding his limbs suddenly without strength. He could not remember ever being overpowered so thoroughly. And he'd never derived such pleasure from the sensation.

Dudley shoved him away abruptly, breathing hard. Harry staggered backward a few steps, also panting. He understood. The better the kiss felt, the greater the sense of _wrongness_ was. Wrong to be kissing his cousin, and definitely wrong to enjoy it so much. So wrong, but so damnably necessary just now. Yes, that was the word. Necessary. He didn't want Dudley himself or what they were doing…it was the _feeling._ He needed that. He knew Dudley waited to be shunned, cursed…as did he, by his blonde cousin. The recriminations circled and died in the dark. The dark empowered the act and Dudley, sensing this victory over their better judgment, snatched Harry back to him by a fistful of his shirt, ripping it in the process.

There was naked hunger in the kiss from both parties, an urgency, a sense of trying to make up for lost time, trying to cram seventeen years' worth of wasted time in this one moment. A sense of trying to take as much of this wrong thing as they could while it lasted, before it was gone. Dudley made a sound in his throat, one of raw need and Harry's back crawled with the desire the sound sparked. He clutched at the hefty shoulders, sucking Dudley's mouth and tongue with rapacious intensity.

He felt Dudley moving, lifting him easily to fall with him on the bed. Harry used both hands to comb the blonde hair back from the forehead, pushing Dudley's face up in the process. A moment, wherein the blue eyes were seen at last, hazed with passion. A few breaths drawn in, the heavy weight of Dudley noted and welcomed. Then they were kissing again and it was a balm to both bruised souls.

Dudley shifted, supporting his weight on his forearms, giving Harry the opportunity to wrap his arms shamelessly around his cousin. It was more comfortable to slide his legs from under Dudley's and spread them, letting the blonde's weight settle between them.

A moan escaped Dudley at this intimate contact. Harry's eyes widened, the length of his cousin's erection intruding unpleasantly on his scattered thoughts. With the new awareness, came a sound. Car doors slamming.

They stilled, listening. A male voice, a female's answering. "Me mum and dad," Dudley hissed.

"So?" Harry was already leaning up to have more of the delicious, intoxicating mouth. His own erection pressed hard against Dudley's, rubbing with exquisite friction. He'd never been in such personal contact with anyone, ever. It was shattering. He craved more.

"So they always check on me, that's what." Dudley sat up quickly, pushing Harry from the bed. "Go," he whispered violently. "What are you waiting for?!" He made shooing motions towards his door, throwing himself down on his bed and yanking the sheet over his head.

* * *

Harry slipped out and into his own room as his aunt and uncle were coming up the stairs to the second floor. He heard them open Dudley's door before continuing to their own room. He lay shakily in his bed, feeling the night breeze blow warmly about the room from his window. His body ached and vibrated with unfulfilled need.

Harry had always been secretly amused at the rhythmic squeaking of bed springs and muffled grunts coming from behind the bed curtains of his fellow Gryffindors. He'd never had the need himself. Even Ron had taken up the activity this past year. Now, though, Harry reached into his shorts and closed is hand around himself, fascinated to feel his entire body react to his touch. The moisture leaking from him aided the process. He squeezed and rubbed up and down, stroking briskly as he recalled the feel and taste of Dudley's tongue. The swift buildup in his testes, the way the large vein on the underside of his unit pulsed strongly, had him biting his pillow to stifle his shout of release.

He lay a moment, experiencing the wonder of his orgasm, feeling the way his body shivered in the aftermath. Wiping his hand on his sheet, Harry was left with a clear sense of embarking on a dangerous path.

Well. It had never stopped him before, had it?


	4. Chapter 4

 

The next day, all of the Dursleys happened to be home with Harry when the doorbell rang. Harry was up in his room, trying to convince himself that he wasn't avoiding his cousin. He heard the bell, then heard his aunt screeching and his uncle yelling about 'you lot in my house'. He was off his bed and down the stairs almost instantly.

-oOo-

Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt were in the process of showing themselves into the Dursley's living room. Harry had been so wrapped up in his cousin that he'd temporarily forgotten about the magical community and the people he knew in it. A sudden grin split his face at encountering the familiar. He greeted them heartily, peripherally aware that Dudley, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were standing to the side, staring.

"Right," began Mr. Weasley. "I'm afraid our reason for coming is unpleasant news."

The Dursleys listened in growing, mute horror to how they'd be expected to leave their home and enter protective custody. With magical people, no less. When it was explained that the charm protecting Harry in his aunt's home would evaporate the moment he turned seventeen, their eyes swung to him. The only one who reacted to hearing that there was a group of deadly wizards seeking Harry diligently, that he was hunted and in extreme danger, was Dudley. He stared at Harry in a way that was nothing like the condemning looks of his parents. Having given their message and the instructions for the night of the move, the two wizards left.

There was an uncomfortable hush in the room. Uncle Vernon was slowly turning ever-deepening shades of purple, his rage rising until he was unable to contain it. The torrent that spewed from him, making his mustache flutter, was full of vile, accusatory indignation.

Their lives were circling the drain thanks to Harry, Uncle Vernon spat. And now they'd be expected to endure an indefinite amount of time around _freaks_ and _layabouts_ , they were in _danger,_ and how could Harry think to repay all their years of kindness like this?

Uncle Vernon went on in this manner, Aunt Petunia nodding vehemently from behind the meaty protection of his shoulder, until Dudley stepped in front of Harry and faced his parents.

"Stop it," he said coldly. "It's not as if Harry asked for this, is it? The bloke killed his parents and wants him dead…how is that his fault?"

The elder Dursleys recoiled in shock and terror. Petunia wailed in anguish that her precious son had been enticed to the side of corruption from whence Harry sprang. Uncle Vernon actually grabbed his chest so that both teens feared a heart attack was imminent. Dudley turned from his blustering, stricken parents as if he hadn't just demolished the foundation of their existence, and took Harry's arm. He marched with the bespectacled boy up the stairs and into his room. The door was kicked shut and locked for good measure. He released Harry's arm.

Harry, for his part, was in such a state of disbelief that he was convinced he was dreaming. In fact, so outrageously fantastical was the living room scene, following every other thing that had happened so far this summer, that he wondered if he had fallen when getting off the Hogwarts Express and was currently in a coma. In a perpetual dream of events that would never take place under normal circumstances.

"Harry."

He jerked, blinked, pushed his glasses up on his nose. Focusing on Dudley's stern face, Harry remembered how his cousin had propelled him up the stairs. There had been a moment, even in his daze, where he'd registered the possessiveness of Dudley's hand on him, of the way he'd hovered protectively between his parents and his cousin. Harry's insides at once shriveled and burned at remembering the last time he'd been in this room. At what he and Dudley had done.

At the remembered taste of Dudley's mouth.

Though he couldn't stop looking at the firm lips now, Harry couldn't immediately recapture the feelings he'd had last night. All he could find was dumb wonder that he'd kissed his cousin. _Passionately,_ at that. Just now, with light streaming through the window, it seemed like it hadn't happened.

"Harry," Dudley said again. He waited until the green eyes found his. "What's this about?"

"What's what about? You heard what they said."

Dudley frowned. "Someone's really trying to kill you then?"

"I'd imagine several someones. Death Eaters, Voldemort, whatever other dark creature I encounter."

"And…what. Once you leave, that's it? You're cast out into the world to run from them for the rest of your life?"

Harry studied his cousin. There was concern, shock, and imploring incredulity stamped on his broad features. These were the words that should have come from his aunt and uncle. They were the ones who should be afraid for Harry's safety, but he couldn't honestly say he expected it of them. It only struck him now because Dudley was showing such honest fear for his safety. And Harry was ridiculously touched by it.

There was nothing to say to Dudley's questions.

Still, Dudley heard the answers in the silence. "No."

"No what?" Harry asked.

"No, you can't just go off and get killed, that's what! Come into protection with us."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I can't."

"Does no one care about you wherever Hogwarts is, then?" Dudley's voice was climbing in volume, his face reddening as his eyes widened. Harry stared in fascination.

"They do," he said slowly, mesmerized by the clear panic in his cousin. Panic on Harry's behalf. "But I have to go."

"But _why_?" Dudley pleaded. "Just tell me why."

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"If I have to leave my house, I beg to differ."

"It's all about magic. You wouldn't be interested in that."

"It's about you and I'm _very_ interested in that."

Harry hesitated at this, the raw sincerity indisputable. "Your parents wouldn't like me telling you."

"I don't care what they think."

Harry gave up. "Fine. If you really want to hear, it's your business."

"Everything? From the beginning?"

It had never occurred to Harry that his cousin might be curious about his other life. He nodded. "But not now. I need to be alone and think."

He left the room to find his aunt and uncle cowering down the hall, apparently trying to work up the nerve to approach Dudley's room and whatever hocus pocus might be going on in there with their son. Harry ignored them and went to his own room, where he seemed to spend so much time lately.

* * *

The desperate, grief-stricken cries that could be heard from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon for the rest of the day were actually highly amusing. Several times Harry stifled laughter in his pillow as he heard them begging Dudley to tell them what he, Harry, had done to him. Dudley's cursing and bellowing only made Harry laugh harder. When he went down to supper, the atmosphere could only be described as rancid with bitter hatred and fear of Harry Potter and the evil danger surrounding him. Oh, how the elder Dursleys regretted leaving their son home alone with him all those times! They dared not say a word against him now, though, since Dudley was obviously firmly in Harry's corner. The justice of it was so beautiful that Harry couldn't refrain from grinning all through supper. This sight very nearly killed his aunt and uncle right then and there.

But for Dudley, Harry could almost wish they _would_ drop dead. He snickered into his pork chop.

* * *

Harry was feeding Hedwig when he heard his aunt and uncle proceed down the hall to their bedroom later that night. They muttered miserably on their way past his door. He hadn't heard Dudley's voice since coming upstairs and presumed the other boy had gone to bed.

His room was tidy, since he'd cleaned it that evening. His clothes were sorted and put away. He'd leave his trunk and the years of junk it carried for another day. He was turning to get in bed when a light knock sounded at his door.

No one ever knocked. They either barged in or banged on the thing as if he was deaf. Harry knew it was Dudley before he opened the door, and when the blonde stepped inside, carrying a piece of cake for him and Harry both, the wizard knew he'd secretly been waiting for him. He took the saucer holding his slice of cake and shut his door.

"Lock it," Dudley said.

"Why? Your parents never come in here."

Dudley didn't answer, but went and sat on Harry's bed. He began eating.

Abruptly, Harry realized the lights were off in his room. Memories of the previous night came to him now, bringing the feelings he'd been unable to find earlier today. A shudder worked through him.

He locked the door.

Joining Dudley on the bed, Harry was in time to see his cousin pull out two cans of soda from his pockets and a large bag of cheesy crisps. Harry stared.

"Confession food," Dudley explained.

"What of your diet?"

"One night won't hurt it."

"What else do you have in your pockets?"

Dudley stopped chewing and gave Harry a guarded look. So strange was the expression in the blue eyes that he wondered if his cousin was carrying a weapon. He decided he would be watchful.

-oOo-

Harry began with the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore in his fifth year, after Sirius had died, laying the groundwork for Dudley. His cousin listened attentively. Cake finished, they pushed the plates aside as they took turns reaching into the crisps bag and sipping their sodas. By the time Harry got to the part of his arrival at the Dursleys, Dudley was still and wide-eyed, mute with the sheer enormity of the tale, the magic laced throughout it.

"And so I had to stay here for the first eleven years of my life." Harry bit into a crisp, taking a small break.

"A-and Voldemort?" Dudley's voice held the fear and awe one would expect when mentioning the dark wizard, but only because Harry had just spent and hour telling of all the things Voldemort had done before he'd been born. He'd told of Tom Riddle's history as well.

"He was a ruin of his former self, no body, no helpers at all."

Harry picked up the tale with what happened during his first year. He talked until he was hoarse, whereupon Dudley gave him the rest of his soda. Harry's was finished a long time ago. The soda was warm, but blessedly wet.

By the time Dudley was caught up with Dumbledore's death it was just midnight. The room was dark, but Harry could see that his cousin's face was deathly pale. Dudley spoke from lips stiff with horror.

"I used to think the life you left for at the start of each term must be like a fairy tale. All magic and amazing things. You'd look so happy to be leaving and so sad to be back here in the summer. But your life isn't like that at all. It's horrible, more dangerous than Smeltings could ever be…and you think its brilliant compared to here. That must mean this house is worse than people trying to kill you every year, losing your godfather and those horrible teachers…Harry, I'm so s-s-sorry!" Dudley's hands flew up to cover his face, but didn't block the wrenching sobs.

Harry could not have been more surprised if Dudley had suddenly transformed into a goat.

Earlier, during the tale, Dudley had expressed a desire to treat Snape and Malfoy with extreme violence, which had gratified Harry enormously. Such loyalty from his cousin was wonderful, but as nothing next to this towering remorse. Harry hadn't known his cousin was capable of the feeling. Though, now that he thought on it, it would explain his attitude this summer.

The crying was harsh and severe, coming from a place in Dudley so deep and truthful that Harry was forced to believe the tears were real. He moved closer to his cousin on the bed, quite alarmed at the refrain 'I'm sorry, I'm so bloody sorry' whispered fiercely over and over again. He tried to pat Dudley's shoulder, wondering what he could say.

"It's all right, Dudley," Harry stammered. "Really, it is."

"N-no, it's not." Dudley hiccupped noisily, wiping his face on the hem of his vest. "Your life at that place is the most horrible thing I've ever heard. Dead people walking about, the Slytherins, the Triwizard Tournament, the Chamber of Secrets, all of it. And whenever you came home, I made your life so miserable, me and my mum and dad, that you actually think that place is better than here. If I'd known what you were c-coming home f-from, I never would have… And yet y-you s-s-saved me. After everything, you w-went and saved m-me anyway. It will _never_ be all right! I can never take back how I was or what I've done, don't you _see_ that?"

Harry thought he did, finally. He saw that his cousin was laboring under a corrosive mantle of guilt so heavy that it had completely done away with nearly 17 years worth of Petunia and Vernon's teachings. Instinctively, Harry understood that his aunt and uncle would never experience this transformation, despite their son's achievement.

Unable to bear the look of acceptance on Harry's face, Dudley stood to go.

Harry stood as well. "Don't leave," he said in a low voice. "You don't have to leave." He felt as if he were getting to know a completely different Dudley, one he could like and eventually love as family.

The blonde hesitated. "Harry…would you consider staying with us? Coming with us into the protection?"

Harry didn't have to think about it. "I told you I can't. I have to find a way to kill Voldemort, Dudley. And only I can, that's the thing."

Dudley's face crumpled, but he managed to hold off crying again. "I can't take the thought of you facing so much alone, of you facing death."

Harry found himself taking slow steps toward Dudley, as if sudden movements would frighten the large boy into bolting. "Why?"

A beefy shoulder lifted in a shrug. "I…"

Dudley didn't finish, peering at Harry in embarrassment from beneath the fringe of his hair. Harry had reached him by now. He stood tensely, watching the way Dudley's eyes roamed his face, noticing, as if for the first time, that his cousin really was beautiful, had been made beautiful by remorse, by the fact that he cared.

"Dudley…"

The blonde grabbed Harry's shoulders with a small whimper and dragged him close. Harry went gratefully, their mouths urgent and needy. So warm and comforting and _needy._


	5. Chapter 5

It was different this time.

Before, there had been an urgency between them, when they'd kissed in Dudley's room. Harry had gone back to his room with the clear sense of willingly doing something dangerous. Not so this time.

This time the need between them made the danger evident. There was no _sense_ of it, as if it was unseen, undefined. It was there, present in every touch of Dudley's hands on Harry's feverish skin, in every whimper and moan, in every second wherein the kiss grew in depth and strength and intensity. In the moment Harry looked the danger in the eye, recognized it and accepted it, he knew that it wasn't just in the darkness of his room or Dudley's that it could flourish. It was a darkness of spirit, of mind, of soul. Odd that the darkness in his cousin and in himself could give birth to this bright, fragile, translucent thing.

It might be wrong. But for them it was right.

Harry didn't fight it, though he was terrified. Dudley seemed to know the way, what to do, and he let himself be led. His shirt came off. Slowly. A question. He gave no protest and Dudley breathed again, placing his large hands reverently on Harry's bare arms. Apologetically.

Dudley allowed his vest to be removed. Harry studied the way the fat had hardened, the way muscles were faintly visible, altering the topography of Dudley's torso into hills and valleys. There was a long scar slanted across his cousin's smooth chest that Harry didn't think Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon knew about. He touched it. Touched his cousin.

An embrace. Harry's dark head on Dudley's broad shoulder, strong arms holding his thin back. Their hearts vibrated beats between them and there was love. A brother found.

Harry was led to the bed. He sat and saw what else Dudley had in his pocket at last. He didn't know what it was, but at seeing the clear gel squirted into a broad palm, he understood its meaning. Its purpose was vaguely grasped.

Dudley took off his pants. Harry felt shame sting his cheeks but he didn't look away from the offering of his cousin's body. He watched as the gel coated Dudley's thick penis, applied with one hand. The danger was closer now, but Harry didn't waver. He stood and dropped his jeans. He was nude, as his cousin was, and Dudley handed him the tube of gel-like substance.

It was cool on his skin. Then it was warm. Touching themselves in front of each other created a bond, some kind of bond that wouldn't be broken. Whatever else happened, they would always have this, what they'd done, what they were about to do. Dudley stopped stroking.

So did Harry. He was unsure of what to do. If it had been Ginny…but it wasn't. He had an idea of how things went with boys, but he didn't precisely know what came next.

Dudley came to him, placed his wet hand behind his neck and kissed him. It was long and slow. They sank to the mattress, tongues and fingers entwined. Their erections stood stiffly against each other. Dudley rolled his hips against Harry's groin and the sticky sliding of one length against another made Harry gasp, breaking the kiss. His head tilted back on the pillow as he breathed in shallow pants. Dudley humped him again and again, watching his face, watching it redden as Harry's climax built. A series of soft sounds left Harry as he came against Dudley's pelvis. It was warm. It was embarrassing, further strengthening the bond begun with masturbation.

While Harry lay recovering, Dudley kissed his long, lean throat, his narrow shoulder, his chest and stomach. He ran thick hands over Harry's limp arms and legs, kissed his scabbed elbows, the bruises he found on knees and shins. He nuzzled the dark thatch of pubic hair, inhaling Harry's musky smell. He touched Harry's feet, his thighs, his hands. He went back to his face and ran a large finger down Harry's nose, over his eyelids, traced his eyebrows. Learning him, the real Harry.

Harry was made to turn over. He'd never felt so at ease, so comfortable in the presence of another. Here was baring his soul as he'd never done. Here was acceptance as he'd never received. Here was truth. Sometimes truth was dark, and sometimes it was shunned. Not all truths were true for everyone, but for him and Dudley, this was their truth.

He didn't know it for Dudley's tongue when he first felt it. It was just something wet. When understanding came, he gasped, arched, but Dudley's hand on his back kept him still.

Closer still, the danger. But it was the truth, their own dark truth.

Harry closed his eyes as Dudley tasted him between his lower cheeks, the better to feel, to know. He'd never guessed another could touch him like this. His entire body sizzled with embarrassment, yet his penis grew hard again. The licks and sucks were soft. Hesitant. Questioning. Harry kept his hands by his head on the pillow, gripping tightly. A sigh escaped him.

He heard the gel again just before he felt Dudley's hand where his tongue had been. Probing. A finger, thick and hard, entered him and withdrew. Entered again. It was painful, this imitation of the final danger. "Dudley," Harry gasped.

The finger stopped moving. Then it was joined by a second and Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out. Dudley rubbed his flank, his lower back, soothing him, helping him relax. Harry's breathing evened out as his muscles loosened under the slow massage. Sweat stood out on his body.

Dudley covered Harry's body with his own, his brawny chest on Harry's back. His face fit in the hollow behind Harry's neck and his shoulder, his big hands coming up to lace with Harry's on the pillow. Lower, Harry felt Dudley's penis, leaking fluid, settle at the entrance so recently loosened for this act. He waited.

Dudley was big everywhere, in every way. He pressed forward against the ring of muscles and here the danger was at last. Harry panted, riding the waves of pleasure and pain as his cousin solidified their bond, cementing the fragile thing until it was fragile no more.

A final thrust and the union was complete. Pain shot up Harry's back, down his legs. "Bleeding hell, Dudley," he said weakly.

"I'm sorry," Dudley whispered.

* * *

It seemed like they'd been doing it forever. No beginning or end. The thrusts were hard, but slow, with Dudley's hands gripping Harry's the entire time. The blonde kept his face in Harry's neck as they each breathed and stopped breathing alike.

It was delicious, the way Dudley's body undulated on him and in him. Magnificent, the power in his large cousin as he emptied within Harry, only to keep thrusting, keep giving. There was nothing wrong, only right. Nothing dark. Harry was swept up in all his cousin had to offer, and he came several times beneath the laboring body above him.

Sometimes they rested. Dudley would kiss his hair, his shoulder, the fingers he clutched. Humbled, Harry would smile and whisper his name. Then they would begin again and it would be better than the last time.

They got turned around, so that Harry was on his back, gazing up at Dudley's shadowed blue eyes. His legs were wound around the solid hips as they pumped and pumped and pumped into Harry tirelessly. Sweat dripped from Dudley to Harry. And then they were kissing as they were joining. Warmth gushed deep inside Harry as Dudley came again.

Harry dozed. He woke on his side, Dudley thrusting from behind, one arm around his middle. Dudley nibbled the skin behind Harry's shoulder as he felt him wake up. "Stop?" the blonde asked.

"Never."

"Harry, I love you."

"I don't want this night to end, Dudley." And then Harry was coming again.

Sometimes, Dudley only held Harry, joined to him but still. They would kiss until they were breathless, stop, then kiss again. Mouths, chins and cheeks would be visited by lips. Whispers against eyelashes closed in surrender.

Sometimes Dudley would be fierce in his thrusts, holding Harry's body in his arms as he jarred him roughly with his hips. Harry would make no sound, only hold to his cousin desperately, biting the meaty shoulder when he came or at a particularly brutal thrust.

Dudley didn't mind the scratches left on him, the pulling on his hair, the way Harry shoved against him sometimes when a thrust was too deep. He took it and gave of himself to Harry, more and more.

Hedwig watched how the bodies, her master's and the other one, twined and writhed in rapture, in ecstasy, in pain and pleasure. Harry's leg rested on Dudley's shoulder as the wizard was turned to his back again. Faint wet sounds, moist sounds, issued from the place they were joined as Dudley moved in and out of Harry's shivering body.

She fluffed her feathers, settling down to sleep as dawn approached and her master mated endlessly with the large blond boy.


End file.
